


Baby, it's cold outside

by HolisticPanda



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Can't spell Bart without murder, F/M, Gen, Rated For Violence, for obvious reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 12:58:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11760393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolisticPanda/pseuds/HolisticPanda
Summary: Bart doesn't like the snow.





	Baby, it's cold outside

“We’re going outside.”

Ken crosses his arms in front of the large tent they’d pitched in the living room of the old wooden cabin, fully dressed for winter in boots, a thick jacket, and a scarf. Though Bart seems more than content to snuggle with her teddy bear beneath the thick blankets they’d found in the bedroom, after forty eight hours of being cooped up inside with nothing to do besides stare at each other and try to stay warm, he’s had enough.

Bart pokes her head up out of the bundle of blankets, wild-haired and sleepy eyed, to glare at him. “No.”

“Why not?” he asks, exasperated.

“I hate snow. It’s cold and wet and feels bad.” To emphasize that the conversation is done she turns over and digs herself deeper into the soft, warm pile, pulling the blanket back over her head.

“Fine, then we’ll do this the hard way.” He kneels down, grabs her by the dirty foot sticking out of the blanket, and pulls. She kicks and squirms the whole way--hitting him once or twice in the stomach--but she’s not nearly as dangerous when she’s not actively trying to kill someone and is still only a one hundred and twenty five pound woman in her underwear.

Her foot manages to connect with his wrist, forcing him to let her go, and she immediately curls up into a small impenetrable ball. With nothing to grab he can’t force her out any further into the room, so he decides to try a different tactic.

“Come on, Bart. Five minutes; that’s all I ask. For me?” he pleads, trying to look as forlorn as possible.

She’s silent for a minute as she studies him but then sighs dramatically and drags herself to her feet, crossing her arms to conserve warmth and glaring in a way that a few months ago would have sent him running; now it only amuses him. She makes absolutely no effort to help him dress her, standing like a posable statue while he slips her arms into the thick downy jacket, dirty red trapper hat with fluffy ear flaps, and a pair of oversized jeans he’d found in the coat closet. He pulls off his already warmed scarf to wrap it around her neck until the only thing left uncovered is the small area between her forehead and chin.

“Ready?”

She pokes out her lower lip and scowls. “No.”

“Great! Let’s go!” He grabs her hand and pulls her out the back door of the cabin and into the freezing cold air. There's a good two feet of snow on the ground already, and as far as he can see there isn’t a single living soul besides the two of them.

“There. That’s not so bad, is it?” he asks, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to keep warm. Even though it’d been his idea to brave the frigid air, he hadn’t expected it to be quite  _ this _ cold.

Bart crosses her arms and grunts, the closest she’d get to agreeing with him. She turns to look out over the blank white wasteland, not bothering to hide her boredom. “Now what?” A snowball hits her directly in the side of the head as soon as the words leave her mouth, and she whips around to glare at him with equal parts bewilderment and betrayal. “What’d you do that for?!”

Try as he might, he can’t stop himself from laughing at her expense. The flakes of snow clinging to her eyebrows make her look like a grumpy old man, especially with the scowl she’s leveling him with. He eventually manages to calm down enough to gasp out an explanation. “It’s called a snowball fight. Here--” he bends down to scoop up a handful of snow and molds it into a ball before handing it to her. “Throw this at me.”

She looks curiously at the pile of snow in her hand, up at him, and then back down again. Unsure, she does as he asks. He hadn’t expected her to throw it directly into his face, but the cackle that bubbles out of her throat makes it immediately worth it.

“Oh, you’re going to pay for that,” he laughs, bending down to form another snowball. Another one hits him on the top of his head just as he finishes make, and by the time he’s ready to retaliate she’s already taken cover around the side of the old house. He rounds the corner and is hit in the face by yet another snowball, sputtering around the mouthful of snow that had managed to get into his mouth. He forgot how good her aim could be.

She ducks the snowball he launches at her, grin wide and eyes shining. “You missed.” 

By the time he notices that he can’t see her hands, it’s too late. In one smooth movement she pulls two snowballs from behind her back and hits him in the face again before disappearing behind a nearby tree. Getting the best of her was turning out to be impossible, and suddenly, he regrets ever teaching her about this game. It feels like every time he takes his eyes off of her she somehow manages to get the drop on him, and it doesn’t take long before he grows tired of getting face fulls of snow.

“Okay, okay, you win. I give up,” he huffs, holding up his hands in surrender and heading back to the house to rest. Bart warily reappears, and when she sees that his hands are empty, walks over to sit between his legs on the back steps. He wraps his arms around her shoulders for warmth and rests his chin on her head as they both attempt to catch their breaths.

He notices that she looks oddly relaxed, the tension she’d been carrying since they’d arrived all but gone during their time outside. What surprises him even more is that she’d stopped complaining about the cold, though that was probably because of all the running around and dodging she’d been doing.

When he feels rested enough, he removes his chin from the top of her head and sits back to speak to her. “Want to try building a snowman?”

Bart leans her head back to frown up at him, tilting it slightly with curiosity. “A wha?”

“A person made out of snow.”

She considers the idea for a few seconds and then snorts, looking at him as though he’d just asked if she’d like to fly or eat brussel sprouts. “ _ Why? _ ”

“For  _ fun _ . Here, I’ll show you.” He pops up and makes another snowball, smirking at the wary look she gives him from the porch steps. He rolls the ball around the yard, making it bigger and bigger until he has a decent base. He then starts the process over again to build the torso, glancing over every now and then to see if she’s paying attention. Unsurprisingly she isn’t, finding a couple of birds pecking at the ground more interesting than anything he’s doing. Annoyed, he puts his hands on his hips and calls out to her. “Can you help me lift this?” he asks, even though he doesn’t  _ actually _ need the help.

Bart shifts her attention from the birds to where he’s standing in the middle of the backyard. She then sighs loudly and drags herself over, reluctantly grabbing one side of the large ball and placing it on top of the first one he’d made.

“Now what?”

“Now we decorate it, like this.” He reaches into his pocket for a few of the dark rocks he’d nabbed just for this purpose and places them on the top ball. “See? Now he has eyes.”

A spark of interest finally appears on her face as she looks up at him excitedly. “Can we make it a girl?”

“We can make it anything you want.” He sees her eyes light up even more, and just like that, she’s hooked.

She zips around the yard, looking for things to add to their creation and seeming to no longer notice the cold at all. One thing that quickly becomes apparent is that her idea of a person is wildly different than his. When they're done it has five arms, four eyes, and three pine cones sticking out its chest representing what he assumes to be breasts.

“Did I do it right?”

The pride in her eyes is palpable, and he can’t bear to say anything that’d take it away. “Close enough.”

He looks closer at the way she’s staring at her creation and then notices the glint in her eyes he’s seen far too often since they’d met and reaches out for her arm. “Bart…”

But it’s too late. She throws herself into the snowman, taking her head off in one punch. She brings her fists down again and again onto the decapitated body, smashing it until it’s nothing more than a pile of snow, rocks, and broken sticks. The pure glee on her face and laughter in her voice is equal parts terrifying and endearing.

“Why’d you do that?!” he frowns, mostly because he’d had to do all of the hard work. She raises an eyebrow at him as if to ask ‘really?’ and he can only shake his head in response. “Nevermind.”

Bart pops up from her pile of carnage to bounce around in front of him, her cheeks rosy with equal parts cold and glee. “What’s next?”

Ken rubs his hands together for warmth and realizes that he can no longer feel his fingers. He wants to show her more, wants her to love snow as much as he does, but not at the expense of losing appendages. “Nothing. Let’s go inside before we freeze to death.”

Bart pokes out her lower lip in disappointment and grunts, not bothering to hide her displeasure at having to stop playing. Still she follows him inside, closing the door behind them.

The first thing he does is start up the kerosene heater inside the large tent they’d pitched in the living room as a way to conserve heat and sticks his hands out until they can move again. Next he removes his outer clothing, and when he turns to help her with hers, he’s unsurprised to find that she’s already shed her wet clothing and slipped under the warm blankets of the tent, burrowing further into the pile until she’s comfortable.

Rolling his eyes in amusement, he crawls into the tent and huddles under the blankets with her, sighing as he finally feels his toes begin to thaw. 

“You make stupid things fun,” she murmurs, looking up at him with her still rosy nose and cheeks.

Ken blinks in response. Sometimes it was hard to tell if she was complimenting or insulting him. “Uh...thanks.” 

Exhausted from their brief time outside, he’s about to doze off when he hears what sounds like the front door opening. Almost as if on reflex he reaches back into the tent for the clear poncho they’d prepared ahead of time. He slips it on over her head and puts the hood up, making sure that it covers her shirt, and then Bart casually picks up the hatchet they’d found in the cabin. 

“Back in a sec,” she grumbles, visibly annoyed at having to leave the warmth of the blankets. He watches her crawl out of the tent towards the foyer, and shortly afterwards hears a strangled cry and the continued wet sound of something caving in a skull. It doesn’t take long for things to go quiet, and she returns a couple of seconds later with her face and a little bit of the hair that’d escaped the hood splattered with drops of blood, but otherwise clean thanks to her murder poncho. They’d started using either ponchos, raincoats, or large trash bags whenever she thought she was going to kill someone since having to constantly find her clean clothes could be both tedious and time consuming.

“I guess we can leave now,” he mumbles, slowly sitting up and stretching.

Bart hesitates, standing in front of the tent’s opening. “Can we stay a little longer?”

Even though he’s still cold and they really should get a move on before they run out of their limited supply of kerosene, he can’t stop himself from caving to the hopeful look in her eyes. “Sure.”

She smiles brightly, and after pulling her murder poncho over her head she ducks back into the tent with him, the metallic smell of blood quickly assaulting his nose. She squirms until she’s pressed right up against him, the warmth from the heater and their bodies lulling them both into a tired slumber. 

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this story sitting for months and ended up cutting a couple of things just so that I could finish it haha. I love the idea of Bart discovering that snow can be fun!


End file.
